Requiem on the Rocks
by TheOneWhoReadsFanfiction
Summary: For it is always the most benevolent who are punished the worst. A written adaption of the death of Littlefoot s mother. Rated T, just to be on the safe side.


**Hello there! Most of you probably don`t know me, and I wouldn`t expect you to; I wasn`t a terribly active member of Fanfiction, despite being here for over a year. Either way, I`ve recently been watching a ton of movies from my childhood-the Land Before time being one of them. I`ve been wanting to write a story about the death of Littlefoot`s mother for a while; the scene was one I could never get past without sobbing as a child. So, without further ado, here you go!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Land Before Time, nor any of the dialogue present in this story.**

"Mother!"

The call echoed over the rocks, traveling across the splintered earth; a pitiful, fraught cry. The last remnants of the child`s screech resonated for a few moments more, before being swallowed up the relentless tide of rain. For a moment the little dinosaur stood, shivering and desperate. Why wasn`t Mother answering him? Surely, his cries must have reached her by now. Had she….forgotten about him?

_Of course not!_ Maybe he just wasn`t being loud enough. A sudden crackle of thunder seemed to vindicate and alarm him all the same, and something deep inside pulled him on.

He was at a ledge now-a short space spanning perhaps a little bigger than the length of his little body. He was looking around frantically, his entire being seeming to bend under the despairing numbness that the rain brought.

"_Mother!"_

This call was louder than the first one, deep and infused with a coarse apprehension. It quivered with the fear of something lost, then righted itself and smashed through the sheet of rain, thunder, and all things wretched. Still, there was no answer. He would have to jump the gap.

His mind was on the other side far before his body was; even as he gasped and grappled for a firm foothold, a strange sort of knowledge had come to him. Perhaps it was a pure, primal instinct; perhaps it was something more. Maybe it was the simple and tender fear of a little dinosaur who had lost his mother. Whatever it was, it spurred him on. He would find her-he would find _something. _

A nearby shelf of rock offered a brief reprieve from the rain, and the child was quick to scurry beneath it. There was the ledge he had just jumped, right in front of him-here was a mass of rock. His eyes would be loath to spot something other than this endless ruin of pebble and stone-so his voice would have to do the job for him.

"_Mother, where are you?!" _

A mocking silence was the initial answer to the child`s call; it slithered across the rocks and towered above him, powerful as a vile screech. It wrapped itself around him, this crippling fear, whispering tender curses in his ears: _You will never find your mother._

For a brief moment, the little dinosaur began to dread the truth in these thoughts. Yet then, _then…_Was that…? Something else was answering him now; something was wiping the bad things away. It wasn`t the loudest or most impressive call in the world, but to a lost and frightened child, it was the epitome of all miracles. He whipped around now, his tail held high in a surge of brief excitement. _There!_ A figure lay slouched on a raised shelf of rock, head bent at an odd angle. It took only a moment for the child to discern its identity.

"_Mother!" _

He was racing down the rocks now, scattering pebbles in his exhilaration. The sweet feeling of relief was overtaking him; a breath of sadness and despair released and changed for the better.

Irony, however, is a master at its game; as the little dinosaur approached his mother, it unlaced its plans and set them upon him. The child had come to a stop now, head craned to meet his mother`s eyes.

_Why is she lying down?_ Surely, Mother knew that it was too dangerous to sleep here. There were Earthshakes and other dinosaurs around, like….like….

"Mother, please get up." It was a piteous and defeated plea, the cry of a little child too young to know a thing.

Mother`s head arced, stretched in order to see her son. For a moment, the mockery of relief once again flooded the child-something fragile and tantalizing; something all too easy to break.

"I…I don`t think I can, Littlefoot."

Was there a worse feeling in the world than this one? The child called Littlefoot certainly didn`t think so; he was sniffling now, racked with shivers that the freezing rain itself could not have been responsible for.

"Yes, you can! Get up." _You`re just tired from fighting Sharptooth. You had to lie down for a while, but that`s ok. You can get up now. You have to. _

_Please get up… _

Mother was struggling to her feet now-and for a moment, it looked as if she would be able to stand. Her knees shook, and the child tensed with trepidation and a feeling that he could not explain.

He could not describe what exactly happened in the next moment; all he saw was Mother fall down, her body surrendering to the wicked forces that she had tried so hard to defend him from. The shelf of rock in which she was lying gave way, and she tumbled down, head coming to rest beside her son`s.

He rushed over to her, pressing his head against hers. Mother`s eyes were open, illuminated by a strange, pale light. It took a moment for her to speak, but when she did, the child listened the way children always do.

"Dear sweet Littlefoot….do you remember the way to the Great Valley?"

A thousand terrible things sliced through the petite child, and he wanted to collapse and curl up into an elfin ball. Had she told him the way there? Yes, she had, but… it didn`t make sense. If she knew the way, why did he have to know?

To speak his next words would be to break the shield of denial, to expose his frail youth to a fate that not a single soul his age deserved. Yet speak he did. The path in which he was walking was not one he could stop.

"I…I guess so….But why do I gotta know? You`re gonna be with me!" He was sniffling now, the foreboding sheet of rain mixing with his tears.

Mother`s head was raised slightly, a weak smile spreading across her face. "I`ll be with you, Littlefoot…even if you can`t see me."

He didn`t understand, it didn`t make sense. What was Mother telling him? "What do you mean? I can always see you!" _ Mother, stop! Get up…get up…. _

"Littlefoot..." Her gaze was locked intently on him now, alight with the sweetness and trials of a mother`s love. "…Let your heart guide you. It whispers….so listen closely…"

Then there was a silence-a long, odd silence. It wasn`t scary and it certainly wasn`t loud, but to the little child, it was the most terrifying sound in the world.

"Mother? _Mother_?"

And this time, the silence that followed would be the harbinger of the most horrible things, the saddest things, the things that no one really understands. It was the worst sort of feeling in the world, something too powerful and too devastating for the child to grasp. He could only lie there, whimpering and watching the rain pour down on the limp body of the one who`d loved him most.

Of course, he was not alone-the thunder, the flashes of light were present here now. Here they would remain, until the mercy of a requiem flew down, cloaking the little child in darkness, waiting for the moment in which he would be forced to stand, and face the things he had lost forever.


End file.
